school, but I was usually the power behind the throne. Once one
of these potentates (it was at the school of that kindly man)
mimicked my mother hugging her pot of pea mush

"If you do it again I'll kill you," I said

"If you lay a finger on me," he retorted, "the teacher will kick you
out.

Your mother doesn't pay him, anyhow."

I flew at him. His Majesty tearfully begged for mercy. Since then
he was under my thumb and never omitted to share his
ring-shaped rolls or apples with me

Often when a boy ate something that was beyond my mother's
means--a cookie or a slice of buttered white bread--I would eye
him enviously till he complained that I made him choke. Then I
would go on eying him until he bribed me off with a piece of the
tidbit. If staring alone proved futile I might try to bring him to
terms by naming all sorts of loathsome objects. At this it
frequently happened that the prosperous boy threw away his
cookie from sheer disgust, whereupon I would be mean enough to
pick it up and to eat it in triumph, calling him something
equivalent to "Sissy."

The compliments that were paid my brains were ample
compensation for my mother's struggles. Sending me to work was
out of the question. She was resolved to put me in a Talmudic
seminary. I was the "crown of her head" and she was going to